


Five Bucks

by Tukkee



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M, Prostitution, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, RDR2, Sort Of, Spit Kink, Whiskey & Scotch, pig - Freeform, red dead 2 - Freeform, technically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 10:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16952661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tukkee/pseuds/Tukkee
Summary: Laying low after a job is hard, even harder when you're looking for whiskey without any cash. Luckily for Arthur, he might've found just the sap willing to give him exactly what he wants.





	Five Bucks

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, as of writing I have NOT beaten the game, so please no spoilers! I'm addicted but trying to find time to power through it is hard enough. Also fuck rockstar for inventing literally the cowboy of my dreams. Arthur is dumb hot, and easy. Let's explore this!
> 
> Little smut drabble that I cooked up in a day, nothing too fancy. Please, please, please comment and give kudos if you liked it! Enjoy!

Another tiny town, another saloon, another empty night away from the camp. He had just completed another hairbrained scheme concocted last minute by one of the men, the results of which were unknown until he got back home. All he knew was John’s fleeting, but still alive order to stay away and lay low. So here he was, another evening as such, blending in and drinking heavily, a quid pro quo of circumstance and outcome he reckoned he’d never retire from.

The saloon was as busy as it could be in the tiny town of a hundred. The maestro on the piano jammed away with intoxicated fingers, spit-shined shoes hammering the rusted pedals with a delightful verve. Women in gorgeous gowns, crisp and primed to be removed, loitered on the banister overlooking the warmly lit main floor. Men circled around them, their lips loose and wallets looser, dissecting each offering with hungry eyes and hollow promises.

Arthur rounded the bar and fingered out some coins, tarnished but acceptable, and ordered two whiskeys. The first he threw back quick, tired of sobriety and in desperate need of the familiar warmth. The second was for enjoying, not that there was much to enjoying the venomous drink. A ruckus from the rafters caught his attention, along with half the bar, who drew their gazes and pistols up to a clearly drunk man harassing one of the women. Arthur rolled his eyes and let the crowd break them up, with shouts and pungent slurs ricocheting around until said man found himself right beside Arthur.

Arthur took a look at the man through his shaggy bangs, finding a beet-faced brute with a thick beard like matted fur and a scowl that may have very well been permanent. He was large, a rancher type, with slippery thick fingers squeezing in and out of fists with rage. The bar returned to their goings-on and the bartender was left to deal with the customer, giving him his first warning, and a promise of no second.

“I was just tryin’ to get what I came for!” the boor graveled.

“And she told ya she was busy with someone else,” the barkeep spoke sternly, knuckles as white as ghosts on the countertop. “We have plenty of ladies to choose from—”

“I wanted her and only her. And I tired of waitin’ my turn for sloppy thirds or fourths,” the man screamed, moving to reach across the bar in an attempt to strangle the owner.

Arthur turned on his stool and rose an arm, fist at the end, in the path of the would-be assailant, “Easy there, partner.”

The rugged man spat to the ground and swatted at Arthur, “Stay out of this, boy, if you know what’s good for you.”

“I’m juss’ tryin’ to enjoy my night and you’re makin’ a fuss, relax,” Arthur said, returning to his seat and stilling the barkeep. “Let me buy you a drink, mister.”

“You? You don’t look like you have much,” he barked and gestured to the two empty glasses tipped upside down. “That or you just blew through your only capital on those.”

“You’re right, I don’t have any more,” Arthur frowned, “but you seem to have enough cash for the both of us.”

“Oh yeah?”

“For starters, your gal ain’t no longer here,” Arthur pointed up to the second floor, “so that means all the capital you would’ve spent on her can now be spent on us. That is, unless you were plannin’ on waitin’ for her to come out eventually, whenever that may be.”

The man snarled but nodded, upset at Arthur’s basic logic and accepting he’d probably have to wait for a good long while to see the girl he’d try to impede on earlier. “Bullshit that I have to wait on a whore—”

“They ain’t whores,” the barkeep snarked as he placed two full glasses of whiskey in front of the men.

“They’re whores when they deny good payin’ customers like myself.”

“Enough about the girls, mister. Just pay the man and wait your goddamn turn,” Arthur droned as he readied his third of the night.

“I’m sick an’ tired of waitin’!”

“Well, shit, I’ll do it if it works on shuttin’ you up,” Arthur hummed, standing to face the face stopped dead in his tracks.

“What did you say, boy?” the graveled tone came back, full of curious insinuation.

“Tell you what, mister, if you’re so desperate that you’re ready to start brawlin’, you can go upstairs and wash yourself, while I step outside to, say, consult my prayer book. Maybe I’ll meet you there,” Arthur cooed, tipping his empty glass down and swiping at his sweat and whiskey soaked paisley shirt. “If you catch my meanin’.”

“Are you seriously implyin’—”

“I am. I’m sittin’ here, listenin’ to you bitch and moan about not gettin’ a turn, so I’m just offerin’ you… a different kind of compensation.”

“What you’re offerin’ me is—”

“What I’m offerin’ is exactly what you’re lookin’ for, juss’ a lil’ more perverse, admittedly,” Arthur winked and began to step away. “But a hell of a lot cheaper than one of these other, finer women. And bein' broke as you pointed out, all I want is enough cash to keep my night goin’. Simple as that.”

The gentleman was getting flustered, heated in the face from Arthur’s sly proposition. Red with anger or bashfulness, Arthur couldn’t quite tell, but he was ready to take on either outcome of his lascivious interaction. Either he’d get a punch to the face, or hopefully in the better outcome, some cash. The decision rest in the gentleman, whose eyes and hands were all over the place.

“Hold my spot, will ya? I’ll be back in a moment!” Arthur knocked on the wood and shouted above another growing ruckus. He side-eyed the gentleman one last time and puckered his hairy lips, “Or several.”

He exited the back and fished out his Bible, a small tin of papers and a shrinking heap of tobacco he’d stolen from the farm he robbed earlier. The quality wasn’t great, but it beat his two other choices: paying for better, or having none at all. He figured he could’ve asked around for a cigarette or two, but knowing these lot, he’d end up paying for them. It’d be right back where he started, and doing something he’d out right try to avoid. It was one thing that he had to pay for the warm whiskey, but shilling out coin for a burning stick of dry leaves? Please.

The night was quiet save for the loud hum of the incandescents and breaths of hitched horses. Guns went off in the far distance, their hollow echo wisping into the dark town. His breath hitched as he lit a match and puffed on the first few sucks of smoke, always the harshest, but made way for the smoother follow-ups. He stepped away from the lone light and bent over a railing, wilted wood smeared with hopefully mud. He kept his pose until half way done when he heard the door open behind him, his peace interrupted by two whispers, one familiar and one not so.

“There he is,” came the familiar, shaken and loose, lubed and limber from half a bottle and a moment’s consideration.

“He?” the other’s dissatisfaction rang.

“Brought a friend there, friend?” Arthur chirped, biting into his cigarette.

“He’s, um,” the first man whispered, his spurs clinking along the floor.

“Curious?” Arthur answered. The second man hid in the dark but made his approving nod known. Arthur chuckled deeply and fingered his smoke, reaching out the butt to the second man. “Wanna finish this, partner?”

The first man he met, jittery and eager, clambered over to the muscular blonde and began to fuss with his belt. Arthur stepped back and pressed his wet back against the cold and black wall. “Itchin’ to get started, I guess?”

“Shut up,” the first man pulled himself out, thick and soft, “you’re the one offerin’.”

“I am,” Arthur licked his lips and lowered himself to the ground, catching a whiff of sweat and soap. “How thoughtful, cleanin’ yourself for me, like I asked.”

“I woulda for the ladies.”

“And here you are, doin’ it for a man like me,” Arthur began to lap at the presented cock, soft and slow at first, his warm breath kissing against the cold and smooth length. His whiskers tickled the mass in front of him and he quietly engulfed the head into his mouth. The gentleman breathed a shaky sigh and got comfortable, flaring his stance and pushing his pelvis forward enough to get more of himself in Arthur’s warm and wet throat.

The cock began to harden and Arthur started to move, slowly inching back and forth along the growing rod. In no time it was fully erect, a short and stout manhood none too larger than Arthur’s own, and certainly nothing as big as Dutch’s or Charles’. Arthur felt the back of his skull tap rhythmically against the wall as the man above rocked his hips forward. His eyes were closed, that much Arthur could see every chance he got to look up, a sign he was doing a decent enough job.

The sounds of Arthur’s spit-soaked mouth sliding up and down the stranger’s cock mixed with the low and hushed groans of said stranger. The third party stood still in his spot in the shadows, removed but intent on staring at the perverse site before him. Arthur lifted a rough hand and cupped the gentleman’s sack, pulling down to stretch the heavy orbs enough to earn him his loudest moan yet.

“Fuck,” the stranger hummed, his teeth pinching on his lips. “You’re as good as one of them whores, huh?”

Arthur rattled the cords in his throat in response as he buried his nose into the man’s bush. The stranger above groaned and brought a hand to the top of Arthur, fisting a bushel of blonde and tying the base of his cock to the cowboy’s wet lips. Arthur sighed at the sensation and let his own hand molest his clothed manhood, tugging at the dirty denim.

“Who’da thought a degenerate like you could suck a cock this good?” the stranger barked, loud enough to cause the second man to shift up and check for any additional onlookers.

Arthur began to run out of air and attempted to pull back, only to find the grip on his head too tight and unceasing. The stranger noticed Arthur’s struggles and relaxed for a moment, but slipped his second hand down to grip Arthur’s neck and began to thrust forward violently. Arthur gagged through the assault and braced his hands on the man’s trunk-like thighs. Every chance he was allowed a breath Arthur took it as quickly as he could, knowing that in a near instant, the man’s throbbing erection would begin to choke him again.

On and on this repetitive onslaught went, and Arthur felt his nose and lips slam against the man’s base with each tug on his neck. The gentleman above hiccuped and slapped Arthur on the cheek, petty and playful, “What a fuckin’ pig.”

Arthur heard a choke and then felt the splat of a wet and whiskey-stenched wad of spit landing square on his face. Arthur looked over and saw the second man lean over him with a sinister grin. He smeared the spit across Arthur’s nose and up into his eye, all while chuckling warmly and heaving in rhythm with the first’s deepening thrusts.

“What a pig indeed,” the second stepped closer, blotting out the lone light and completely enshrouding Arthur in lustful dark. “How’s he feel?”

“Like velvet,” the first groaned and slammed Arthur all the way down, holding his head firm as his fists began beating on the wall. “No teeth too. This whore’s had practice.”

“That right?” the second spat again, landing on Arthur’s sweaty brow and dripping down his cheek. “All for a whiskey, no less.”

“I ain’t buyin’ that. This pervert just wanted my cock, huh?” the first said, allowing Arthur to catch his breath. He inhaled sharply but earned a slap the moment he removed his lips from the bobbing member. “Hey!”

Arthur took the hint and returned to his task, throating the stout cock in a quick gulp. He loudly worked his wrist up and down in time with his mouth, gaining speed just as the gentleman he was blowing started to shiver.

“I’m gonna cum, you dirty ol’—” was all he could get out before Arthur pressed his lips all the way down and slid the man’s dick straight down into his throat. He felt the man convulse and expand in his mouth, emptying the pent up load into his waiting stomach. The stranger let out a roar and slammed his head into the wall Arthur’s back was flush against. Arthur swallowed the best he could but soon found his cavity filling up with the man’s seed, pungent and warm. A taste he’d never get used to, but couldn’t get enough of. One of his odd vices out in the wild, he supposed.

“Good boy, drink it all up,” the second man said, a phrase frequented by Arthur’s gang leader, the utterance sending familiar shivers down his breathless spine. The first sighed and pulled out, freeing his shiny and slick half-hard cock into the cold, still pulsating with cum. Arthur received a second slap and a third spit, and soon his red and swollen lips returned to the thick, purple head of the gentleman’s cock.

“Don’t spill no drops,” the first stroked the underside of his dick. “I know how much you want your booze, but you gotta drink this first.”

Arthur lapped up the final drops of cum and rubbed the spittle off his face. The jizz felt cool and tasted sweeter than the initial spurts, but he drank it all the same. Once complete, he took a deep breath and sighed, turning to smile up at his abuser. “How’d I do?”

“I ain’t gonna lie, pig,” the first stepped back and lent a hand down to pull Arthur up. “Better than what one of those whores woulda prolly given me.”

“Well ain’t that sweet to hear,” Arthur straightened his shirt and readjusted his pants, alleviating the strain of his own erection. He turned to the second man, now visible in a better light, “Like what you saw?”

“I reckon I did,” the second man said, his gruff voice lightening now that the show was over. “Unorthodox but he said you were offerin’ head for whiskey, I just had to see it to believe it.”

“You lookin’ to get off yourself?” Arthur pressed forward, hand adventuring to the man’s profound crotch. “Hmm. Big.”

“Bigger than he.”

“Ain’t that right?”

“Rub it in why don’t ya?” the first man yelped and fumbled with his trousers.

“Don’t worry, I liked yours too,” Arthur laughed and turned towards the first, hands presented out. “Now, about the matter of my payment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the first grumbled as he reached into his pocket, removing a crumbled-up wad of mismatched bills. Arthur raised a brow and cleared his throat while he waited, eventually receiving a wrinkled stack of singles.

“Five?” Arthur felt the weight of the paltry wad.

“Five.”

“I think I deserve a little more than five, mister—”

“A whore in there is ten, and you said you was cheaper than that, so you get five. Enough for five whiskeys, if you wanna think of it thatta way. Plenty to knock you on your ass.”

“Hmmph. Five it is, then,” Arthur shrugged and folded the amount in one hand, the other reaching behind him to whip out his wallet. He opened it and, in pretty plain view, showed off his near thousand of stolen bills to the two strangers. “Gentlemen.”

Arthur stepped through the two, mouths agape at the cowboy, his swagger and effective con leaving them wordless. He smirked as he returned to the saloon, still loud and voracious, full of degenerates like himself, although none would be anything other than insulted at the proposition of sucking off a gent, let alone for payment.

He sat back on his stool and ordered five, quickly finding them laid out in a line for his slow but eventual enjoyment. The door behind him opened again and through it came the second man, eyes fixated on Arthur, poised strong. Arthur raised a glass with a wink and watched the other turn away with a blush. The first man never reentered, even by the time Arthur’s fifth whiskey entered his throat. The second man still hovered over by the exit, his shoulders taut and straight, arms crossed above his flanneled chest, and cigar rolled into his lips. His eyes danced with the room but would always find their way back to Arthur, as if checking in on him, almost hurrying him along.

Arthur shook his head and let the loosened alcohol flood into his skull. He paid the barkeep and slinked towards the exit, stopping beside but ignoring his stalker. “You need somethin’, friend?”

“Perhaps I do.”

Arthur turned his tipsy face over and locked with stern, hungry eyes. “Got five?”

“I do.”

Arthur nodded with a clearing of his throat, eyeing the man up and down, finding the bulge he fondled earlier still present, with no attempt to hide it in the light. He licked his lips and pressed through the door, sliding back against the wall and rolling another cigarette. Moments later, a single pair of footsteps traced their way to where he was, and before he could lick the Bible paper, he repositioned himself back down on his knees.


End file.
